


Not to Blame

by agdhani



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agdhani/pseuds/agdhani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex had not wanted Darwin to die.  He blames himself.  Adapting without him was going to be tough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not to Blame

Alex Summers was not a man to trust others. After all, given that very bad things tended to happen when he got angry, and sometimes even when he wasn’t, Alex could not even trust himself. How many had he hurt, directly or indirectly, with that ‘gift’ he was unable to control? He had stopped counting after the first dozen or so. It was simpler, safer, for everyone if Alex kept to himself, and hence necessity had made a loner out of what had been a bright, friendly, outgoing child.

A loner, that was, until two men came into the darkness of his life and forced him back into the sunlight of humanity. Two men so different, and yet the same, who offered him hope for the first time since the day this ‘gift’ had come into bloom. He had been skeptical, and yes, afraid, but the kind gentleness of the shorter one’s gaze and voice, the sincerity in those blue eyes as he revealed, for the first time, that Alex was not alone in the world after all, had given him the courage to come forth out of his prison cell.

Meeting the other young recruits did little to nurture that courage at first. Whether they knew it or not, he believed he was more deadly than any of them, that he could kill them without breaking a sweat even though that was the very last thing he wanted. But as he got to know them, the realization grew that he was not alone in the world, and that these others each had their own burden of darkness to carry. Deadliness was not the only path to isolation. There was Hank McCoy with those feet that he had to hide from the world. And Angel, who had found some level of security in the world as a dancer, yet had to hide her true self all the while. Sean “Banshee” Cassidy, who seemed like the sort of guy in school who would have never quite fit in, could break glass with the mere sound of his voice; had that precipitated the outsider vibe? There was the older Armando ‘Darwin’ Nunez, a man seemingly normal unless presented with a threat that required adaptation to survive it. And finally Raven, the one who had the most to hide, whom Alex could feel true pity for. He had thought his need to hide from the world was so great; he could never have dreamed living the life she had led.

Staring at the hotel room wall, one arm stretched out to the empty space in the bed beside him, his fist knotted around cold sheets as his thoughts strayed back to Darwin. Easy going Darwin, with the impish smile and knowing twinkle in his eyes, had been the first of his new teammates to extend the hand of friendship, the first to reach out, to seek him out, to draw him out. While it was, perhaps, merely the other man’s nature, as he seemed eager to befriend them all and make them all comfortable, with themselves and each other, Alex had believed that there had been something different in Darwin’s efforts to reach him. Maybe it had been a particular twist at the corner of his mouth when he said Alex’s name. Or maybe it had been the spark in his brown eyes as they’d traveled from head to toe and back up again of Alex’s athletic frame. Maybe it had been the way they had shook hands, the grip lasting moments longer than Alex thought a handshake should.

Or maybe, Alex thought with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut at the memory, it had all been his own fevered imagination because he had found himself wanting Darwin so badly he could scarcely breathe to think of it.

But no. If Alex thought carefully of the events of the last few days, he could not believe it had been his imagination alone. There had been little touches, seemingly innocent to others, perhaps, but anything but innocent to Alex. A hand on his shoulder, a slap on the knee, an open palm upon his back or his stomach when they passed each other, when Alex was sure no one else was looking. Each one had made Alex weak in the knees, and when their gazes met, Darwin gifted him with that secret smile, a look that dangled before Alex like fragrant bait on a hook, reeling him in, irresistible and intoxicating. The older man had known what he was doing, what he wanted, what he was doing, and he had done his best to lure the standoffish Alex to him. But what of that now? Now that it was too late to go back? Realizing what he had lost now was far too late.

Reflexively, Alex’s bare legs crossed as they stretched upon the bed, producing pressure where there had been none before, and he groaned at the feeling. The muscles of his stomach where Darwin’s hand had last passed rippled and clenched in giddy remembrance. It had not been the last time they had touched, however, only the one Alex remembered most vividly. In the chaos of that terrible evening, as Sebastian Shaw’s associates had blasted into their lives, crushing any childhood innocence that might have remained, killing every human around them, destroying their haven of safety, there had been more than a little contact. Hands pulling and pushing one another to safety, as each vied to be the one to protect the other from what had seemed certain doom. There had been concern for the others, yes; the fervent wish to protect their fledgling team and newborn friendships when their leaders had been too far away to do so themselves. But Alex’s main desire had been to protect Darwin, and he believed, in what little his mind could sort out of that tumultuous time, that Darwin had likewise wanted to protect him.

Angel’s defection had been a blow to them all, and it had been slightly older, and thus slightly wiser, Darwin who had come up with the plan to save her from Shaw’s clutches. That their last physical contact should come in the forms of pushing and shoving as the plan formulated in their eyes was a grim reality Alex would never forget. It was a flawless plan, they had believed. It should have worked. But how was either of them to know that Shaw could absorb that energy blast unharmed? How were they to know that he could, in turn, use that energy against them both in the most devastating way imaginable?

“Adapt to this…”

Those words rung in Alex’s ears still, and he could replay those agonizing moments without even needing to close his eyes. He had watched in horror as Shaw shoved energy…the energy Alex had given him, down Darwin’s throat before vanishing into the night with his cohorts and Angel in tow, robbing Alex of what hope he had begun to feel again. Robbing them both of a future that had just begun to take shape. Had it been painful, he wondered now, recalling each shift Darwin’s lithe body had made as it struggled to absorb that energy and adapt, to find some way to survive an entirely unnatural assualt.

It had been a form of attack that no adaptation could best however. In that final few seconds, when Darwin’s eyes had met his, expressing a need and regret and love that had yet to be voiced between them as his hand reached out in longing and farewell, Alex had received full confirmation of everything he had come to believe and accept between them. There had been love…and now there was nothing.

Alex’s ‘gift’ had once again brought disaster. This time, it had cost him the one heart and soul most like his in the whole of the universe, the one that would have completed him.

He bolted upright in the bed, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched to contain the sound of agony wrapped around that single name, his hands tangling more in the sheets. Charles Xavier had assured him that Darwin’s death was not his fault when he had returned to the facility earlier that day, just as every other team member had tried to do, but Alex could not accept that. He had killed Darwin just as surely as if he had attacked the man himself. His desire for vengeance, as Erik Lehnsherr had suggested, was strong, but it was largely directed at himself instead of Shaw. If not for Alex, Shaw would not have had that weapon to use against Darwin. The place for guilt and blame seemed obvious.

No, vengeance would not be Alex’s. It would not be right for him to remain with these people, this team. He would only bring further destruction and death to them. He was a weapon that could not be controlled, and never again was anyone going to die at his hands. He rose from the bed swiftly, debating between flight and his own death.

It took only moments to gather his things together. Not yet dressed, he had little to pack, an extra pair of clothes that Charles had seen fit to supply when winning his release from prison, the few personal effects that had been taken from him upon his initial incarceration, and the pendant he had taken from Darwin’s room when they had left the government facility earlier. He didn’t know what it was, what the symbol stood for, whether it was religious or merely artistic, but it had been Darwin’s and that was all that mattered. In a way, it felt blasphemous to have it, as if he were a murderer keeping a token from his kill, but Alex could not help himself. He had lost the first person to awaken the stirrings of love within his soul; he could not give up the only link to Darwin still available to him. His fingers closed around the cold, heavy medallion and he bit his trembling lip as he pulled the chain over his head. When the pendant lay against his bare chest, he covered it with his palm and whimpered as his grief threatened to overwhelm him once more. He had to get out of this room before hell was unleashed.

But his feet refused to move. Despite his inner convictions of what he must do, he had no real desire to leave this new, understanding family. Unable to overcome the conflict he swayed in place, wishing he could will away his pain. The cool night air around him, drifting in threw the open window, grew slowly warmer, something he did not immediately realize as it snaked its way upwards from his feet towards his head. It wasn’t until he impulsively wrapped his arms around himself, as if hugging someone tight, that the sensation of being embraced in bodily warmth, of hands stroking his back, his hair, filled his senses and made itself known. It was a comforting feeling, like being held in the arms of a mother…or a lover…when all has gone wrong with the world and you want nothing more than for someone else to take the nightmares away. With his eyes closed, it was easy to imagine that embrace belonging to the one person Alex wanted to find comfort in.

A slight breeze fluttered against his cheek like a kiss, ruffling the blonde hair on the sight of his head, and he nuzzled into the sensation as though it were real. With a sigh heavy with longing, regret and remorse, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, man…it shouldn’t have been this way…”

“Shouldn’t be…but it is…”

Alex’s eyes flew open. He half expected to find Darwin standing before him, that cockeyed smirk in place as if to say ‘Here I am’. But there was no one in the room, no Darwin, nothing except a faint sparkling glow shimmering in the air around him, before him, that couldn’t possibly be real.

Laughter. Unmistakable masculine laughter, the sound of which sent Alex stumbling backwards to sprawl awkwardly upon the bed. He stared in near terrified fascination as the shimmer drew together and formed into a shape, a very human shape, the shape of a man thought dead. The color of Alex’s own energy, the shape never quite grew solid, but it did not have to be solid for Alex to know. Now I’m hallucinating, he thought, a notion seemingly confirmed by the unmistakable musky scent in the room that could only belong to one person.

“It can’t be…you’re…”

The laughter changed tone to something affectionate and forgiving. “Adapt to survive, Alex…” came the voice, although the mouth of the image did not move. “There’s always a way…”

“But I saw…I mean, you…I killed…” He choked on the word and started to prop himself up on his elbows, sure he was going mad now, talking to what had to be a grief-born figment of his imagination. “I lost…and I didn’t even get to say…” The shape began to dissipate and fade; with a sudden rush of panic, Alex cried, “Don’t go…”

His words were cut off by a tightening tendril of that warmth that eased up his leg and wrapped itself around his semi-erect shaft. For all the world, he could have sworn there was a hand on him, stroking the veined silken skin with well-practiced skill. But he saw nothing, save for the faint red glow that now hovered over him, heard nothing except his own thundering heart and short, ragged breathing, smelled nothing save for the overpowering exotic scent of the one he missed so dearly.

“Here with you always…”

With a panted whimper, Alex’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the mattress, strength and willpower depleted by the sweetness of heat springing to life in his loins. This was better than any hand job he’d ever given himself, the intent stroke…stroke…stroke…of an invisible hand working his flesh. Through hooded eyes he peered down at himself but saw nothing except his full cock lying against his pale, flat stomach surrounded by a faint red glow. It did not look like anything was happening, but there was no denying that sensation, no ignoring the unseen hand. Darwin’s hand.

He did not know how he knew it was Darwin’s hand. He just knew. He knew it with the same assuredness with which he now knew that the man had survived. Perhaps not in a physical form but survived nonetheless. Survived…and come back to him. To him, Alex Summer.

A cry of joy and relief, both physical and emotional, split the night. Spent, Alex sank into the mattress, not caring if he ever caught his breath again. Darwin, his Darwin, had come back to him. Come the morning, Alex silently promised them both he would go on to finish the work they had started. He would hunt Shaw and make him pay…for the blame was his and his alone. Darwin had assured him, this night, with this gift, that he was not to blame. Lying in the embrace of invisible arms, Alex felt purpose and peace in his heart at last. With Darwin at his side.


End file.
